A Fine Line
by Miss Becky
Summary: The history between Lock Nah and Ardeth Bay. Surely something lies between them, judging from the way they greeted each other in Rick's house. Spoilers for The Mummy Returns


  
  
  
A Fine Line  
  
Author: Miss Becky  
  
Feedback: Is given a warm home at beckyg19@yahoo.com  
  
Summary: The history between Lock Nah and Ardeth Bay. Surely something lies between them, judging from the way they greeted each other in Rick's house.  
  
Warning: Spoilers for The Mummy Returns  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
"There is a fine line between coincidence and fate, my friend."  
--Ardeth Bay, "The Mummy Returns"  
  
  
****  
  
  
The drone of the plane's engines was enough to put a man to sleep -- and clearly  
had, judging by the snores of most of the other passengers. But on this, his  
first ride as an airplane passenger (not his first airplane ride, no, although  
that had come thanks to O'Connell, too), Ardeth didn't want to miss a thing. He  
sat up straight in the uncomfortable seat and gazed out the window, marvelling  
at the blankness of the world below, and how vastly insignificant things like  
men became when seen from this high up.  
  
A young woman from several rows ahead stood up and began making her way down the  
aisle toward the lavatory. As she passed Ardeth, her head turned so she might  
continue to stare, her china blue eyes very wide in her pale face.  
  
The Med-Jai gazed back expressionlessly. The markings on his face that  
proclaimed who he was back in Egypt were nothing but curiosities for the rest of  
the world. In his home he was respected and even feared, but here he was only  
someone to be gawked at and wondered over. The ceremonial robes he wore, trimmed  
with silver as befitted his status, were interesting, but not as much as the  
tattoos that drew the eye of even the most faraway passer-by.  
  
He would be glad to return to Cairo.  
  
He only hoped he would be in time to warn the O'Connells. Word of their digs,  
their exploits, always preceded them, travelling up and down the Nile. But  
somehow in the nine years since he had first met Rick, there had never been a  
chance to pursue the tentative friendship that had formed between them. Despite  
the circumstances, Ardeth privately admitted it would be good to see O'Connell  
again.  
  
The Med-Jai had all protested, of course, when he had declared his plans. He was their commander -- in another culture, he would be called a King -- and he was too valuable to risk being lost at the dig at Hamunaptra. But he was the only one with any experience in dealing with the Creature, and they all knew it, and so in the end they hadn't protested too much.  
  
Working on the dig was dangerous. He had to conceal his identity, and at the same time keep a close watch on everything. The woman with the strange accent knew too much, yet there was the chance that he could steal the books, and without the books, they could not raise the Creature.  
  
It was both his curse and his shame that he had witnessed the rebirth of the  
Creature the first time. For three thousand years the Med-Jai had watched and  
waited and done all they could to stop Seti's priest from rising from the dead, and on his watch, only three years into his leadership, the Americans did what no one else had been able to do. That he had not actively participated in the  
Creature's destruction was another shame, and one he would carry with him for  
the rest of his life. The world owed a debt to the O'Connells and Jonathan  
Carnahan, and most would never know.  
  
And now, nine years later, the world was endangered again, and this time from  
dual threats. For it was the Year of the Scorpion, and if that woman was allowed  
to gain possession of the Bracelet, all would be lost. With the Army of Anubis at his back, the Creature would stalk across the world and there would be a darkness that there could be no recovering from.  
  
The mand and woman who led them were ciphers, and he knew very little about them. But how fitting, Ardeth thought, that Lock Nah should be among them, these people who sought to destroy the world. From the first time he had seen the man at the dig site, he had somehow known their fates would entwine. Indeed, the last time he had seen Lock Nah, the man had been swearing they would meet again.  
  
It would seem that time had come.  
  
****  
  
A man was born a Med-Jai, but not even birth could keep him one. Over the long  
centuries, men had occasionally been cast out of the tribes, sent into exile in  
the desert. Most often these men wandered away and were never seen again, too  
ashamed of their fate to even try to live.  
  
Most. Not all.  
  
Lock Nah was not born of Ardeth's tribe, which was unfortunate. If that had been  
the case, much unpleasantness might have been averted, but then again, fate  
worked in strange ways, so perhaps not. Whatever the case, the boy grew into a  
strong man who had a fearsome temper and a vicious smile. Women swooned over him  
and men followed the force of his personality, not quite realizing that they  
were doing so. Lock Nah's ego grew as did his body, and by the time he reached  
manhood and swore the sacred oaths, he was arrogant and cruel.  
  
On the day of his manhood ceremony, Lock Nah refused to have the tattoos of  
Med-Jai placed on his face. He did not wish to mar his beauty, he said; nor did  
he wish to place himself outside society. There were things he could not do,  
places he could not go, if he was marked as a warrior for Allah. He would not  
submit to the tattooing, and nothing would change his mind.  
  
Only a year older and already preparing for the day when he would lead the  
Med-Jai, Ardeth had been displeased to hear of Lock Nah's refusal. His father,  
who was a pacifist deep at heart, had tried to explain. "What if he wishes to  
join Cairo society? He can learn information that way, if any digs are planned  
or treasure hunters are coming this way. With the tattoos of Med-Jai, he would  
be too visible, and nobody would dare to speak freely around him."  
  
"He is too visible already," Ardeth complained. "Crowds part for him when he  
walks through. He carries himself like--"  
  
"Like?" Sohail Bay missed nothing. "Like a commander?"  
  
"I would not have said that."  
  
"But you thought it." His father's eyes softened. "Let Lock Nah be. He must find  
his own way in this world, and this is what he has chosen. Most men are not as  
fortunate as you, my son. Most do not know their fate."  
  
It was a gentle reminder to remember who he was. It would not do for the future  
commander of the Med-Jai to show jealousy. But he was still young, and he was  
lucky to have this time in his life when he had the guidance of an older, wiser  
man.  
  
It would not always be so.  
  
****  
  
The years passed. Hamunaptra remained a battleground, yet the Creature was  
undisturbed, and the Med-Jai slept easily at night.  
  
Lock Nah cut a swathe through the twelve tribes, leaving broken hearts scattered  
in his wake. Few could match his prowess with a sword, and his strength was the  
stuff of legend. When he sat his horse on the cliffs above the City of the Dead, he scowled fiercely, almost daring the Creature to rise and take him on. It was  
said that if Seti's High Priest did return to life, Lock Nah could  
single-handedly send him back to the Underworld.  
  
Ardeth was aware of all this, for it was his business to know what was happening  
among his people, but only vaguely. Sohail was ill, and the time was fast  
approaching when he would be named the new leader. As a boy he had yearned for  
this day, but now that the time was drawing near, he realized just what it  
meant. He would gain power, but lose his father. It was not a trade he was  
willing to make.  
  
He sought the advice and help of the most powerful Med-Jai healers, and even  
attempted to see a physician in Cairo. The man offered no solutions, except to  
say that maybe if Sohail didn't persist on living in the searing heat of the  
desert, he might be expected to live a little longer.  
  
Disgusted, Ardeth returned to the sands, but a fine desperation seized him. He  
had known all his life that one day his father would die and he would become the  
rightful leader of the Med-Jai, but it was too soon. He was barely twenty-two  
years old. He knew how to command men, how to ride a horse and fight from the  
saddle; he knew where to find water in the bleakest depths of the desert and how  
to survive on his own; he knew everything he needed in order to lead the  
Med-Jai, but he did not know how to cope with the grief that robbed him of  
strength and the will to do his duty.  
  
Sohail was not much help. "You must forget about me," the commander ordered.  
"You must be ready, Ardeth."  
  
He did not want to hear this kind of thing. He had never known his mother, and  
he had no siblings. The boys he had played with as a child had fallen away, and  
they treated him differently than the others, giving him the respect due him,  
rather than with any attempted camaraderie. Sohail was all he had, and he meant  
to hold on to his father with everything in him.  
  
Stories reached them, stories of Lock Nah, who was slowly creating a following  
of eager young men. One tale was told of Lock Nah striking a commander, but that  
was surely myth, for no Med-Jai would disrespect the leader of a tribe in such a  
way.  
  
By the time Lock Nah's plan became clear, there was nothing that could be done.  
On a day when not a single cloud stood between them and the sun, the young  
warrior strode boldly up to the leader of the Med-Jai and made a challenge.  
  
It was his right, of course. Any Med-Jai could cast a challenge at the leader,  
who would then fight for his status. It was an ancient device, one that had not  
been used in centuries, for the men of Ardeth's line traced their ancestry back  
to Seti's Med-Jai, the men who had dared to invoke the hom-dai on Imhotep. Their  
rule had occasionally been challenged, but never overturned.  
  
Lock Nah stood with his arms folded across his broad chest. He wore the  
traditional black robes of the Med-Jai with disdain, and his unmarked face was  
haughty and confident. "I challenge you, Sohail Bay of the Med-Jai. You are  
unfit to lead this people."  
  
A challenge, once thrown down, could not be revoked. Sohail had no choice but to  
accept. Almost choking on his anger, Ardeth grabbed his father's arm. "Don't do  
this."  
  
"You know the law," his father said calmly. His long hair was almost completely  
gray now, and the flesh hung loosely on his face. "I must."  
  
"Name me now, then!" Ardeth hissed. "Let me fight for you."  
  
Sohail reached up and touched his son's face. A gentle smile tugged at his lips.  
Then he drew his sword and walked forward.  
  
Lock Nah pulled his scimitar, the curved blade flashing in the sunlight. He  
spared a glance for the onlookers, for every man, woman and child in the camp having come running upon hearing of the challenge. "Today you gain a new leader," he promised them.  
  
Sohail Bay gave his foe a salaam. "So I meet your challenge."  
  
The young Med-Jai gave a predatory smile. "Good."  
  
Their swords crashed together, and Sohail staggered and nearly fell. Gone was  
Lock Nah's smile as he pursued his commander, forcing the older man back.  
  
In agony, Ardeth watched as his father fought for his life.  
  
Sohail was weak and sick, but a strange thing was happening. With every meeting  
of their swords, the commander was pushed back, but he moved with an agility and  
speed that would have been at home on a younger man. Lock Nah's face showed  
plainly his displeasure, and the warrior was forced to move back to avoid what  
was now Sohail's attack.  
  
Pride for his father rose within Ardeth. Clearly he had underestimated Sohail.  
Ashamed of his earlier outburst, he watched the duel dispassionately, as the son  
of the commander ought to.  
  
Lock Nah stumbled and fell backward. At the last moment the warrior turned his  
fall into a roll, and Sohail pressed forward, seizing his advantage. For a  
second Lock Nah's face was not visible, then the fighter completed his backward  
roll, and landed lightly on his feet.  
  
He was grinning.  
  
It was a trick. Too late, Sohail saw the danger. He tried to turn aside, and the sword thrust that should have disemboweled him only struck a glancing blow on his side. The commander staggered, his dark eyes wide with shock.  
  
The fight now was terribly uneven. Ardeth watched as his father was slowly cut  
to pieces, and vowed that the instant Lock Nah proclaimed himself leader, he  
would challenge the warrior.  
  
Bleeding from half a dozen wounds, at last Sohail threw down his sword. Sand plumed up and then settled back down on the blade, which was still clean. He held out his hands and went down on his knees, in the ancient posture of submission. "I name," he said.  
  
Lock Nah placed the point of his blade against Sohail's throat. "Say it, old  
man." Triumph rang in his deep voice.  
  
Sohail knelt as straight as he could. He did not seem to feel the pain of his  
wounds. "I name my son, Ardeth Bay, commander of the Med-Jai!" He whipped his  
head to one side, slashing open his throat on Lock Nah's bloodied sword. No one  
moved as the former leader of the Med-Jai slumped to the earth, his blood  
staining the sand.  
  
His father was dead. Trembling with rage, Ardeth drew his sword. The challenge  
still stood. With a cold calm he did not feel, he stalked forward. "Lock Nah. I  
meet your challenge." He attacked the man who was now his bitterest enemy.  
  
The younger warrior was taken aback, but quickly recovered. He parried Ardeth's  
swing and attempted to launch an attack of his own.  
  
Under normal circumstances, it was a fight Ardeth could not have won. He was not  
as skilled with the sword as Lock Nah, and the other man was stronger. But grief  
and fury gave him strength, and on that day he seemed to know what his enemy was  
going to do before Lock Nah did it. He met each blow and landed several of his  
own, and now it was his sword that was bloodied.  
  
Their swords met one final time, their eyes locked over the straining blades.  
Then with a great wrench, Ardeth disarmed his foe. Lock Nah's scimitar spun  
across the sands, and the crowd gave way before it, not wanting to be touched by  
the blood of their former commander.  
  
"You have been bested," Ardeth said coldly. "You are no longer Med-Jai. I cast  
you out, Lock Nah. From this day forward, you have no people."  
  
The warrior's dark eyes glared at him, but Lock Nah knew when to accept defeat.  
He pointed at Ardeth. "I will see you again," he vowed.  
  
Ardeth had lowered his sword but now he brought it up again, the curved blade  
spinning through the air. "I hope so," he said.  
  
Lock Nah stared at him for a moment longer, then turned and walked away. He went  
with his shoulders up, his head held high, making a grand exit, rather than  
slinking away in the disgrace that was his.  
  
It was over. He was commander, and he had already made his first decree. The  
enormity of it slammed into him, and Ardeth dropped his sword. He sank to his  
knees beside the body of his father. "We will bury him with fullest honor," he  
said hoarsely. "Send out the falcons. Alert the other tribes."  
  
His orders were obeyed without question. He was their leader now.  
  
Ardeth picked up his father's slack, bloodied hand. He kissed it. "I will make  
you proud," he swore.  
  
Then he stood and went into his home. There was much work to be done.  
  
****  
  
The sound of the engines changing pitch woke him with a start, and he realized  
he had fallen asleep in spite of himself. Cursing his weakness, he sat up,  
peering out the window. The earth below appeared closer, although it was hard to  
tell at night.  
  
He was almost there. He hoped he could find the O'Connells before Lock Nah and  
the woman did, but he would not let himself worry about it. Fate would lead him  
true, as she had before.  
  
****  
  
As it was, he was almost too late. He arrived at the house minutes after they  
did, and by then Lock Nah was already threatening Evelyn.  
  
"Then I will kill you and take it anyway."  
  
It had been twelve years since he had last spoken to this man. It gave him great  
pleasure to step forward. "I think not."  
  
Evelyn's astonishment was evident in her voice. "Ardeth! What are you doing  
here?"  
  
He did not take his eyes off Lock Nah; the man was still powerfully muscled and  
strong. "I think perhaps explanations are best saved for later."  
  
Lock Nah remembered him. Sweet hatred dripped from his voice. "Ardeth Bay."  
  
He stared into the eyes of his enemy. Perhaps not today, but soon, he would kill  
this man. "Lock Nah."  
  
He was never sure who started it, only that a moment later, the fight was upon  
them. The men in red and black who surely followed Lock Nah out of equal parts  
fear and respect fought poorly, and were easily dispatched. On her end, Evelyn  
was managing rather well, and even the boy was helpful.  
  
"Not bad," sneered Lock Nah. "Not bad -- for a Med-Jai." He cast aside his cloak.  
  
They fought now as they had on the desert sands. The Creature was forgotten, and  
the Bracelet and the Army of Anubis. There was only himself and his enemy, the  
man who had killed his father and made him leader of the Med-Jai.  
  
Then Evelyn cried out and he was distracted. He called her name, and in the  
moment his attention wandered, Lock Nah struck. He went down, searing pain  
blossoming in his right shoulder. Desperately, he rolled, avoiding a wild swing  
of Lock Nah's sword, and came to his feet against the paneled wall, slamming  
heavily into it.  
  
From some unseen pocket, Lock Nah hurled one final weapon, one last defiance.  
Ardeth wrenched himself to the side, avoiding the killer blow by mere inches.  
  
In the hall, Lock Nah settled his cloak over his shoulders and stalked out of  
the house with the same power and grace he had shown all those years ago.  
  
Ardeth watched him go. Today was not the day. But soon, very soon, he and Lock  
Nah would meet again.  
  
And only one of them would walk away from that meeting.  
  
*******  
  
END  
  
  
Send any and all comments to beckyg19@yahoo.com  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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